Fire From the Sky
by DeathBladeVI
Summary: It is a year after the events of World War III. That is shattered and World War IV starts. They say a will of a single man can start wars and change history. That was proven with Makarov. Now his successor, a deranged lunatic, launches his own plan to change history. Follow a Marine Sergeant of the Philippines, a Russian paratrooper, and a Navy Seal, as they fight for their lives.


_"Look back over the past, with its changing empires that rose and fell, and you can foresee the future, too."_

-Marcus Aurelius

It was quiet. The Philippine Marine Sergeant that was in charge of the squad squeezed in a breath. It was time to end this. His M4 carbine was in his lap, the rest of his men either sleeping or taking the time to write letters to their loved ones. He sighed, sent a quick prayer to Jesus, before he took a loose leaf of paper from out of his back pocket.

It was from his wife, a wonderful woman he had met twelve years ago. They had been married for the last six years, and had two children. The thirty year old felt a single tear roll down his cheek, because he may not be coming back from this mission. He unfolded it before reading it. The letter was two days old, dated the fifth of September in the year 2017. One year since the events of World War III and the invasions of Europe by the Russians. He had cringed since he had been in Europe during that time, serving as embassy security. The horrors he saw…

The V-150 Commando Armored Personnel Carrier bumped on the road, sending him a few inches up in the air. He laughed silently, wishing that he could be home. Several M113 APCs were also on the road, heading towards their base in Zamboanga City, where their Marine barracks was. Two PZL W-3 Sokol helicopters passed overhead, their sleek forms darkened by the clouds. Five Moro Islamic Liberation Front fighters were manning a checkpoint, their AK-47s visible. The APC grounded to a halt before the checkpoint, the driver checking with the border guards. After several years, the terrorist groups operating in the Philippines were being destroyed and the mission that the Marine had just came back from resulted in the death of at least half the remaining strength of the MLNF.

The border guards checked the credentials of the driver and they waved him through, along with the six M113 APCs right behind them. The six M113s were carrying soldiers of the 1st Mechanized Brigade, the Maasahan brigade. They all rumbled into the city, before dividing into their own elements, all of them ready for one last mission. After rumbling down a main street, the driver turned left, onto a side street.

The V-150 rumbled, stopping outside of a cafe. The early morning meant that the people of the City weren't awake, but the security personnel stationed were on high alert. The Marine Sergeant looked at the letter, his heart beating faster at the thought of his wife.

He folded back and then inserted it into a pocket, before smacking the private that was right next to him on the back of the head. The city was still sleeping, and the cafe was evidence of that. The Sergeant then whistled and the Marines all looked at him with expectancy. He had lead them since 2015, into battles against the internal enemies of the Repúblika ng Pilipinas! He was their leader, their guidance. The Marines were all battle-hardened and ready to fight.

"Men of the Hukbong Kawal Pandagat ng Pilipinas, listen to me. Today, we defeat the threat of the MLNF, today we secure the freedom of the people of Mindanao. We will defeat them and finally peace will come to our lands. This is the last battle in the war against our internal enemies, against the people that threaten our homes. That is all," the Sergeant ended and that was all the men expected. The Sergeant had not been big on speeches. He never was.

The 90mm gun on the V-150 turned, while the troop compartment opened, letting the twelve Marines of the Marine Force Recon Battalion to file out. All of them armed with M4 carbines or MP5 submachine guns, though one carried a shotgun of Italian background. The Marine Sergeant ordered them to stack up behind him, and they executed the command easily. On a six story building that overlooked the neighborhood from around 1500 yards away, two Marine snipers were waiting, one of them armed with a Marine Scout Sniper Rifle, acting as the spotter, while the other had a Barrett M82 anti-material rifle, one of them most capable sniper rifles in the Philippine arsenal. They were monitoring the cafe, which was in reality, a safehouse for the MLNF.

Seven seconds later, two people exited the cafe, yawning and carrying automatic rifles. Though the V-150 was a very big vehicle and obviously did not belong in civilian neighborhood, the two men did not spot it for some reason. The sniper with the Marine Scout Sniper Rifle squeezed his trigger, sending a 5.56mm bullet traveling at 3,000 feet per second, into the skull of one of the men. His comrade, now awake, raised his AK and was about to shout when the second sniper squeezed his trigger and a massive .50 BMG round spit out of the barrel, slamming into the rebel's chest that left it a bloody mess.

"All hostile eliminated, prepare for breach," the Sergeant ordered and the twelve Marines stacked up on the door, before a Private placed a C4 charge on the heavy oak, and retreated. The twelve Marines waited five seconds before the door detonated.

The explosion was one of seven that morning. The door ripped apart, the heavy oak no match for the military grade explosives. The twelve Marines then stormed straight into the cafe, fire teams of four spreading throughout the building. Two more pulls of the trigger left two more rebels dead and then the city erupted in gunfire.

The Sergeant ducked as a now awaken rebel opened fire with his AK spraying 7.62mm bullets into their cover. Four more rebels were now awake and fired their weapons as well. The V-150 then opened up with its 90mm, firing a massive shell into the side of the building that four rebels wounded and one dead. The Sergeant then ordered two of his men forward, their M4s opening fire on the dazed enemies. All of them were gunned down easily. A rumbling of an overhead aircraft signaled that men of the 710th Special Operations Wing were being parachuted from a KC-130 Hercules, multiple parachutes opening up.

"Sarge, we got two more coming in!" and that statement was proven true when two automatic rifles opened up, kicking dust and dirt when the bullets hit the ground. Three Marines opened fire with their own weapons, catching one of the rebels off guard and killing him, while the other dove behind cover, only for the Sergeant to fire a three round burst, catching the rebel on the side. He collapsed and the three Marines rushed forward, capturing the last remaining rebel. All through the city, the last remaining MLNF forces were being driven out and killed, and the last obstacle to real peace in Mindanao was being exterminated like the pests they were.

"Clear!" a private announced. Several dead bodies littered the area.

"Check the bodies," the Sergeant ordered and soon, several Marines were searching each of the bodies. The Sergeant breathed a sigh of relief. He had managed to keep his entire squad alive, not a single casualty. He was lucky, he realized.

The last rebel that was alive looked up to the Sergeant and his eyes were filled with fear.

"No! No! Not you! Not you!" he started to yell and the Sergeant looked at him with curious eyes. He had seen the man before...but where? Then it hit him.

In Europe. When he was stationed in the Philippine Embassy in Germany, he had seen the man...fighting alongside the Russians. He wasn't special forces, he wasn't part of the regular army. So what was that man part of?

"Marines, keep him up. Ramos give me your bolo knife," and the private nodded before reaching to his sheath and sliding the blade up, before giving the blade to the Sergeant. He kneeled down and aimed the bolo knife straight for the man's julgar.

"You were in Germany...saw you fight with the Russians when they attacked the Embassy. Now tell me...why did they do that? Why did they attack the Embassy, especially when every other one was left alone? You know what I can do. I killed a lot of you that day. Now tell me...what the hell were you doing in Germany and why did they attack the Embassy?" the Sergeant asked and the man paled. He started to sweat before finally opening up his mouth.

"Makarov's orders. He wanted a certain man dead in the Embassy, and he didn't die...when he was supposed to. He wanted him dead...and he didn't die. Makarov's dead…but...he has a successor...a man that will make sure that the Philippines will become ashes...and finish what Makarov started…" the man started to grow bolder.

"And he will not stop until you are sitting on the grave of your country...and you will die for your sins. Because...when you take off one head...two more grow in its place!" and then man tore the bolo knife from the Sergeant's confused hands, before plunging in straight into his own julgar. He started to choke on his own blood, and the Sergeant cursed.

"Sergeant, this was on one of the rebels," Private Juan Ramos gave the Sergeant a piece of paper, and the Sergeant glanced on it. He paled when he saw what was written.

The world had only known peace for a year. Only one year. And now, it was time for war. War World IV was about to start, and the Philippines was about to be stuck right in the middle of it.

Corporal Pavel Serenko

76th Guards Air Assault Division

Pskov, Russia

June 21st, 2017

The Corporal sighed as he saw the bar. It was a tough day at work and he needed wind down. The twenty-two year old veteran of World War III, who had fought from Virginia, to New York, to Paris, to Berlin, and even in Siberia, just needed some vodka in his body. He wasn't an alcoholic, far from it, but like every Russian, he just needed a drink every once in awhile. What had he fought for? What did he fight for?

The Russian paratrooper opened the door to the bar, smelling the booze and the smoke. Light music was playing and he really didn't care for it. He strode over to the bar, saw the bartender and ordered a vodka. The bartender gave it to him a minute later, and he drunk, letting the fiery drink settle his spirits.

He looked to everything he had lost in the past year. His mother, gunned down at the airport by terrorists lead by the damn asshole Makarov. His father, killed in battle when his submarine was boarded and the cruise missiles ending any hope that New York could be captured. His sister, killed in Siberia when the mine collapsed. His brothers, two of the three killed when NATO bombers attacked and bombed Moscow, crushing them as they went to school in the evening. All he had left was his youngest brother, a five year old named Alenko, and the only reason that he hadn't gone down the deep end.

Taking another swig of his vodka, he saw a pretty Russian girl, around twenty, enter the bar. She was dressed in a white dress, and he smirked, knowing that she was probably some Christian girl that hoped nobody would try to advance on her. He took another swig of it, again letting the fiery drink settle in his stomach. It burned. He smiled as the girl took a seat just a few feet away, and ordered a drink.

He continued to study the girl, looking at her curves as he drank in her appearance. She had wavy black hair that settled around her shoulders, pretty doe brown eyes that seemed to twinkle. She had pale skin, but not pasty like, but snowy like. She glowed he supposed, and as he watched her smile, he thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

So when the pretty Russian woman turned to him and looked at him back, he felt his heart start to beat rapidly and sweat started to form. What kind of effect did this woman have on him? He smiled before taking a swig of his vodka again, hoping the alcohol helped with his nerves.

"Are you going to stare at me all night? Or are you going to introduce yourself?" she suddenly asked and the Corporal, who had seen action all over the globe, turned bright red. What the hell was this woman doing to put such a spell on him?

"Ah, hello, I am Pavel Serenko...ah nice to meet you ah…?" he said, extending his hand,hoping that the pretty girl would give him a chance. She rolled her eyes, her pretty doe brown eyes before taking his hand and shaking it strongly.

"My name is Ida Tanaka," and he was surprised. So a Japanese last name? That was strange. Strange, but alluring. He was stunned into silence and the Russian-Japanese girl glared at him with anger.

"Okay, not another one of you racist assholes-" and she raised to go before Pavel grabbed her arm.

"Wait! I was just surprised. You don't see a lot of Russians with Japanese last names. I didn't mean to offend you in any possible way," he said quickly, bumbling over his words. Ida stopped in her tracks and looked at him with her deep brown eyes. She sighed before removing Pavel's hand from her arm.

"I'm sorry, its just that a lot of times, a lot of people don't like that my mother married a Japanese man, and I get hurt by the words they say…" she sighed. Pavel knew how she felt. His father was a Russian as well, but his mother was a West German, or German, and when they met, his father had just started as a junior officer on a Victor class submarine. He had faced a lot of prejudice at school because of that, and he didn't like it. It taught him to only judge people by their merits and actions, not by the color of their skin, not by their ethnicity, not even by the flag they were under.

"Don't worry, I know how you feel. My father is Russian, but he married a West German and that caused a big wave in our family...he ended up moving from Moscow to Pskov in order to get away from the whole thing," he said quietly. Ida looked at him with curious eyes, and he hoped that her heart beat as quick as his was.

"Your father must be a brave man," she said back, and then squeezed his hand. He laughed bitterly, remembering his father. Remembering the day he had enlisted into the Army, remembered the day that he received the message of his father's death by Americans.

"He was a brave man," he corrected and she gasped in surprise. Around fifty thousand Russians had died in the war, small compared with the rest of the world, especially America, so it was expected that she was surprised.

"What happened to him?" she asked politely and he shuddered, remembering the day.

He had been in New York with his unit, before they scattered. He and a young Russian Army private taking cover as the unit was decimated by American missiles. And then the missiles firing from his father's submarine, killing hundreds of his countrymen as the Russian Navy was decimated by their own missiles, fired from Admiral Yuri Serenko's submarine!

"He was in New York. His submarine, he commanded what the Americans call an Oscar class ballistic submarine...the Orel. Died when Americans boarded it...said to have fought to the last man and the submarine was destroyed or captured by the Americans," he explained and she was quiet for a moment. She then inhaled and exhaled.

"My father was in Berlin when he died...his helicopter was shot down when Polish fighter jets streaked by and then he died when German tanks blew up his car as his security detail tried to get him out of the city…" she started to cry softly and the Corporal placed a large hand on her shoulder, comforting her. She stopped crying and looked up to him with those beautiful eyes, before asking him something that made his heart skip a beat.

"Would you like to go to my place?" she asked shyly and the Corporal thought he had died and gone to heaven. He hadn't even tried to get into this girl's pants and she was already asking him! He quickly nodded and she smiled, genuinely for the first time that quickly exited the bar and she walked them two blocks to her small apartment. They talked for a bit before quickly bolting for the bedroom, where the twenty-two year old had the best night of his young life.

"What do you do for a living?" she asked at five in the morning. The paratrooper was up, use to sleeping less than five hours. He had to be at base around eight, so he was was sitting on the edge of her bed, panting slightly from the actions that they had just partaken just two minutes ago.

"I am a paratrooper with the 76th Guards Air Assault," he said rather quickly. The Corporal sucked in a breath, a man that had been able to outrun Navy Seals, panting because of a little Russian-Japanese girl! She smiled and he swore that it glowed. He loved it.

"Oh really? That is pretty cool. I am an accountant for the President," she said and he looked at her. She was an accountant with the President? That was pretty freaking sweet job. The paratrooper then turned to her, a serious question on his mind.

"Is this a one time deal? Do you want me to leave?" he asked suddenly. He had never been in this situation before, the paratrooper only had experience with one girl, and she had moved to Moscow.

"What do you want to do?" she asked after a moment of thinking. He knew what he wanted to do.

He wanted to stay. As he made this apparent, Ida moved closer to him and brought him into a searing kiss. He lost his mind and as he responded with an equal fierceness, his phone rang and he groaned. Breaking off the kiss, he looked at his phone. It was Senior Sergeant Lepenko. What the hell did the old bastard want?

"Hello?" he answered and soon the heavy Cossack accent breathed into his ear.

"Serenko, get back to base. We are getting deployed to Siberia. One hour. Pack lightly and get your ass to base now!" the Sergeant yelled and the Corporal staggered back. The five foot nine paratrooper quickly thought of something.

"Why the hell are we being deployed to Siberia?" he asked and he heard the famous sigh.

"Another goddamn crisis. It looks like War World IV is going to happen sooner than later. Five hours ago, North Korean forces crossed the DMZ with Chinese air support and troops. We are being deployed to make sure that none of the fighting spills across the border. The fucking Chinese. It had to be them."

The Senior Sergeant then hung up the phone, leaving the young man fumbling in his tracks. He looked outside the window, looking at the peacefulness of the city of Pskov. How long would that last? How long would anything last?

He looked at Ida, and knew what he fought for. What he was fighting for. A girl that he had knew for twelve hours but already knew that he loved.

He was fighting for a chance to live and raise a family.

And he was going to live, no matter what he had to do.

* * *

Well, this was another one of my ideas that I abandoned last year when I was starting to write. It wasn't bad, but I think this was better. I always wanted to write a sequel to Modern Warfare 3 and seeing the potential conflicts in the Pacific, China vs the island nations and Vietnam over the islands known as the Spratlys, the conflict that may happen between the North and the South in Korea, and conflict between Russia and China as well. This will follow three people. You have already met two. The third will be introduced next chapter, which I will hopefully write soon. Characters from the MW arc will be in there, don't you worry..and I have a surprise for all of you.

-DeathBladeVI


End file.
